


The Secret Histories of Gondolin – Musings of a Loremaster

by Umeko



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bored elves, Courtly backstabbing, F/M, Humor, Not LaCE compliant, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Revisionist History
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-05-14 01:47:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 17,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19263514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umeko/pseuds/Umeko
Summary: Life in First Age Gondolin - the unofficial records courtesy of Pengolodh. Let's take another look at those histories. Crack fic. Not LaCE compliant.





	1. Welcome to Gondolin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gondolin is built.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am starting other crack fic, this time based on Gondolinean life as viewed by that ubiquitous chronicler Pengolodh.  
> I imagine when he first arrives in the city, he is only a student or junior scribe, not yet the respected loremaster second only to Rumil and Feanor, so his prose might be a tad coarse.

_First Age 116, Tumladen_

Ah! Fair city! How may I describe this hidden haven, a slice of the promised Valinor? I dread to think that words would fail me thus. Mayhaps joining the respected college of the Lambengolmor will cure me of that. I do hope Prince Turgon was not serious about the ‘no one who comes here leaves here’ rule. I mean, we can keep a secret, honestly. At least I hope they will allow me to send a letter back to Ada and Nana at Nervast. I will miss Nana’s duck stew but I cannot see myself missing the salt marsh-air. The air here in the mountains is so much fresher. King Finrod’s hidden cave-city sounds downright nasty to live in. Even if folks were moving there ten cycles of the sun back and he was not a stickler about no one leaving his city. I know my annoying cousins came back to Nervast for a visit, and kept crowing about how wonderful life was there. Sadly, the orcs got them on the return trip, so we heard. I think I might put in a request to visit my folks in a year or two (with a suitable armed escort of course). 

Prince Turgon just proclaimed himself King of Ondolinde, his name for this new hidden city. Most of us here have Sindar blood, and we are a tad rusty in the Quenya, so we are putting it down as Gondolin instead on the records. Wait, did he just say he was serious about the entire locking everyone in thing. Is it too late to back out? The comely elleth next to me seems quite stricken.

What a heavenly vision of light are the replicas of the Two Trees… The dark-haired elleth standing next to me was not impressed. She decried it as a pale shadow of the real deal. I do wonder if on top of the silver and gold, the original Trees had gemstones for flowers. The silver will be real pain for the servants to polish though, especially the fiddly twigs. Still, what pomp and splendour! Truly an echo of the glorious days…

Whoops, just heard there was a problem with the fountains in the southern city and a street was flooded – The Way of the Running Waters, I think the name is. The dark-haired elleth next to me is chuckling in an unladylike manner.

The golden-haired elleth standing next to her with a puppy in her arms goes, “Aunt, you didn’t clog the pipes, did you?” Turgon glaring daggers this way. I do see a family resemblance. Mayhaps this is the infamous wild child of Fingolfin’s clan – Lady Aredhel?

The celebration of the founding of Gondolin has disintegrated into chaos as craftspeople rush to save their wares from a rapidly flooding marketplace and the King’s Square. King Turgon is having a yelling match with his sister. Princess Idril trying her best to restore order. Perhaps I can help her hold her puppy.

Pengolodh, student scribe, soon-to-be of the Lambengolmor

* * *

 

_First Age 136, Gondolin_

Oh joy! I have finally been recognized for my hard work and appointed royal scribe to the House of the King. Thank Lord Manwe it was not to Lord Penlod’s or Lord Rog’s. Gondolin is and still remains a piece of art in the making. If His Majesty Turgon started off with the aim of making a copy of his home Tirion across the Great Sea, many believe Gonodlin has far exceeded her by now. Well, to be honest, being holed up here means there is little outlet for any energy to be expanded. The craftspeople seem to cope by throwing themselves into their work to design even better buildings, fountains, and such. Others do not fare so well.

Chiefly, Lady Aredhel. Genteel pursuits such as embroidery and music do not appeal to her. Not as much as galloping through the city streets at speed and knocking back a pint or three with the guards in the seediest taverns as a prelude to a round of fisticuffs. The mighty lords of the court not much better, though I will never say so to their faces. Who can forget the sight of Lord Galdor being chased through the streets by a hammer-wielding Lord Rog for using weighted dice at their weekly get-together? Or Glorfindel skinny-dipping in his friend Lord Ecthelion’s great fountain on a dare, just as Lady Idril’s ladies-in-waiting were strolling past. Not one to be easily ruffled, Idril took off her shoes and dipped her toes in the water to chat with ‘dear cousin Glorfindel’ as he scrambled for his clothes (that Ecthelion hid away). Talk about awkward. His Majesty had proposed a series of games to burn off the excess spirits but that ended in a riot after that ball game between the Houses of the Swallow and the Heavenly Arch. There is something about fighting over an inflated pigskin bladder that brings out the orc in everyone.

Methinks Finrod had it right – letting his men out to hunt and decimate orcs and the like once in a while, or visit relations. After twenty cycles of the sun in this city, I must admit it is starting to get stale (unless we need to re-build the marketplace again thanks to a riot).  For me, compiling a list of poetic names for the city is enough of a challenge for me.

Pengolodh, junior royal scribe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how this will work out as Pengolodh, though canonic in Tolkien’s universe, was never an active participant in the happenings of the First and Second Age in Middle-earth. Given the chronicles were written by him for most part and taken as official, I do wonder if there is another side to the histories that was not preserved through the Ages. Any personal writings done in Gondolin would have been destroyed when the city fell.


	2. The King's Embelm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why you should never let a bored sister design the emblem of your House.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It will be quite a while before anyone leaves Gondolin, so we are stuck with the antics of the Lords of Gondolin courtesy of our future loremaster.

_First Age 150, Gondolin_

Praise be to Manwe and His Lady! The city still stands after yesterday’s impromptu chariot race courtesy of Egalmoth, Ecthelion, Aredhel, and Glorfindel. Turgon has been inundated with claims and complaints from his good subjects over property damages suffered. There is talk about confiscating their horses. Good luck to whoever has to impound Glorfindel’s prize stallion. Idril has scheduled a visit to the local House of Healing to call on those unfortunates who could not get out of the way of the horses fast enough. We of the household have been roped in to prepare goodwill baskets. I did not spend hours practising my calligraphy to pack oranges and flowers.

If Turgon had any sense (or perhaps the backbone to stand up to the High King), he would not have taken his sister with him to be shut up in his city. Better still, he should have packed her off to her Feanorion cousin’s. Yes, the same blond bad boy she was rumoured to be indecently close to. I know this will fly in the face of all Eldar norms, but I think only that Feanorion will be able to keep her in line, likely with his fists if needed. My Lord Turgon has always bemoaned that his courtiers were a bad influence on his sister, but one would think it runs the other way. Never thought Lord Ecthelion was one for reckless driving, but I suppose a pitcher of strong wine from Turgon’s own cellars made the difference. Poor ellon was quite apologetic about running over an elfling, he sold his fancy chariot and horses to Salgant and sent the money to the elfling’s parents. The kid survived, but she will not be running about for a long while.

Pengolodh, junior royal scribe

* * *

 

_First Age 155, Gondolin_

The emblems of the noble Houses of Gondolin are a literal work of art. The House of the Heavenly Arch’s multicoloured disc literally shimmers in the sunlight. The finesse and clean lines of the House of the Tree’s and the House of the Harp’s silhouettes. They say Ecthelion rejected his original crescent moon design in favour of diamonds on silver in the outline of a fountain. Even Lord Rog managed to come up with a fitting device for his House. King Turgon agonized for quite a while concerning his royal device. He never could quite settle on one emblem.  

We finally had the heraldic shield for our House of the King decided upon. It is sadly staid next to the others. I mean, I can understand the Sun and Moon but shouldn’t we include a crown or something? The Sun in the emblem is also rather pallid compared to the brilliance of the House of the Golden Flower’s… Oh, it was decided by Lady Aredhel. Ah well, I suppose she just grabbed the castoff designs from the other Houses and did a little mix-and-match. I do believe she wanted to include an arrowhead but that was already taken by Duilin’s House, and she still owes Lord Duilin an apology for using his servants as living targets for her arrows (even if they were blunted).

His Majesty did promise Aredhel she will get to decide the design of his House’s device after he turned her request to start a separate House down. Lady Idril took one look at the design and now it is her turn to plague her father about starting a separate House. That is a crazy notion. I mean, everyone knows ellyth are not up to managing a noble house. They just do not lead, so my Ada always said (and then my Nana would smack him over the head).

Pengolodh, junior royal scribe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just out of curiosity – which House of Gondolin do you think has the best designed heraldic emblem? Going by the illustrations on Tolkien Gateway, the House of the Harp has echoes of Guinness. Quite a number of them are straight to the point – a pillar, a stricken anvil. 
> 
> A version has the scarlet heart on the King’s House device as Fingolfin’s, cut out from his body after his duel with Morgoth. Another version has it as Fingon’s, cut out by orcs in the Battle of Unnumbered Tears. Since both are still alive at this point, I have excluded it from Aredhel’s design.


	3. The King's Scribe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pengolodh writes of life in the King’s household. This is not a happy household. Career advancement not so promising for our poor scribe.

_First Age 200, Gondolin_

Not sure why this should bother me but the unearthly hours certain residents of the King’s House keep are starting to breed gossip. At the centre of this entire maelstrom is our dear White Lady. It really boggles the mind how Aredhel manages to juggle her commitments to the various Lords of Gondolin without a duel or two erupting in the streets. Well, there was that friendly back-alley mud-wrestling match between Egalmoth and Duilin but that doesn’t count as a duel does it? Perhaps Lady Aredhel is just being friendly – the friends-with-benefits way. It’s not as though there is much hunting to be done in the city (shooting blunt-tipped arrows at random citizens do not count).

Methinks Turgon is starting to take note of his sister’s flings, else he fears she might have a bad influence on his only child. No worries there, Idril is committed to works of charity among the less fortunate residents, dancing, and the House of Healing. By dancing, I do not mean that scandalous new dance recently popularised by Lord Penlod and Aredhel at the Festival of Flowers. Really, it is indecent holding your lady so close, even for a waltz.

Another walker of the night hours is King Turgon, who has the habit of pacing the house. Much to the annoyance of his servants, I must add. He tends to ring for a bottle of wine or some light refreshments at the most inconvenient time. Then there was the time he had a page woken up and sent out to fetch the best musicians of Gondolin as he was in the mood for some music. I think even Ecthelion was bit put out having to play for his liege at that ungodly hour. Salgant pleaded a bellyache. The cook (sweet dear) believes our master’s insomnia is a sign of his grief over his dead wife. He did have her portraits painted and hung all over the house.

In the wee hours before dawn, the household was roused from reverie by a screaming match between our king and his sister, with threats to have Aredhel locked up in a tower until she quits stringing his nobles along for sport. Did that include Lords Rog and Salgant? Downstairs gossip had it the pair had a major falling out over some elleth’s affections recently. Ecthelion did offer for Aredhel’s hand once but was turned down, much to his dismay (and his good fortune, I must add). Come to think of it, there is no unmarried lord in Gondolin King Turgon dislikes enough for him to inflict his sister upon. Not even that insufferable Galdor of the Tree.

Found Idril on the stairs and she is naturally upset about the situation. She confided in me that it would have been best if her grandfather had not insisted her aunt joined them in Gondolin. Moreover, the late-night or early morning quarrels disturb the little family of mice she has taken in as pets. Good Manwe, I believe I have found the source of the kitchen’s rodent infestation.

Pengolodh, junior royal scribe

* * *

 

_First Age 250, Gondolin_

I am pleased and greatly honoured that I have been admitted to the Lambengolmor, even if it is on probational basis. I suppose it is due to me since I have been acting as His Majesty’s scribe for the past few cycles of the sun. The initiation was a bit of a shock though – well, they did not swear me to secrecy or anything, so here goes. The initiate has to copy selected works for the perusal of the senior members of the Lambengolmor. If one’s calligraphy is up to par, it is on to partaking in the debate. I had been expecting the favourite old topics on Quenya versus Sindarin or Tengwar versus cirith but the masters of the Lambengolmor had other ideas in mind. Who came up with the idea of arguing for and against the move to Gondolin aka a hidden haven? The whole thing smacks of dissent. Then some young buck raised the issue of banishment of misbehaving citizens Doriath-style, starting with a certain lady in the House of the King. I was thankful His Majesty was not in attendance, for I was arguing against staying holed up here, with nary a whisper of news from beyond the walls.

Well, the Eagles do visit Turgon once in a while, but that was it. We have had no news from outside in quite a while. Has Morgoth attacked Mithrim? Is Doriath still standing? There was some gossip about Prince Finrod shacking it up with both Dwarves and Men. I recall Idril pestering me about Dwarves and Men. Well, I have not seen any outside those few scrolls we brought from Mithrim. It is not as though we hung out together in the marshes. Aren’t Dwarves really furry critters? I hear they are skilled craftsmen as Children of Aule. Not sure about the Secondborn though.

I never heard of any prior debate disintegrating into actual fisticuffs, but I guess there is always a first time for anything. Chairs were thrown and plates smashed. I do recall Lord Penlod’s bratty page shoving someone out the window in the chaos. The brawl was broken up by the timely arrival of Lord Glorfindel and his men, currently assigned peacekeeping duties in the precinct.

I barely scraped by in the debate round to make the grade with a yeni-long probation. That means I have to prepare ink, parchment, and light refreshments for the weekly meetings until I am granted full member status. Ah well… 

Pengolodh, royal scribe and Lambengolmor probationer

P.S. Is there a purse or something for the Lambengolmor’s meeting expenses?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really cannot imagine Pengolodh having much of a personal life, what do you think? The Lambengolmor is a guild of loremasters, so he is taking his first steps to becoming a full-fledged loremaster (even if he is just the general errand runner for the guild for now).
> 
> This series does not seem to be as easy to write as the earlier ones. I have done some minor re-writes to the original chapter.


	4. Princess Diaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idril keeps highly unsuitable company and pets. The Lords of Gondolin get up to much mischief and the citizens get caught in the crossfire.

_First Age 280, Gondolin_

To keep his daughter from being unduly influenced by her aunt, I have been assigned to her personal staff by His Majesty Turgon with the express purpose of keeping them away from each other. This is definitely a step down from King’s secretary. She has requested that I write her a novel or two as she has already exhausted the library in her pursuit of amusement. That is easier said than done as I was not one for fancy words and tale-weaving. The princess has been shockingly informal in her address and demeanour – no lady of breeding would run about unshod. As her father struggles to maintain some semblance of decorum in court, Idril has taken to befriending lesser servants from the kitchens and yard. Yet I cannot help feeling her judgement is impeccable. It is easy to forget she is a princess as she helps the cook snap peas or trim rose bushes in the garden.

More worrisome than her tendency to help with the servants’ chores is her propensity for keeping highly unsuitable pets. After the rodent infestation caused by her pet mice, she has inadvertently caused an outbreak of aphids in the city and that infestation of rabbits. Well, at least the rabbits made for good stew (Idril was heartbroken though). Yeah, I know they are fluffy and cute but it is another matter when they are decimating the veggie garden. When she turned her attention to pets of a less prolific bent, they were fairly shocking in their own right. There was that parrot Aredhel gave her as a begetting day gift – a foul-mouthed, blasphemous bird who was fluent in Quenya, Sindarin, and several Mannish dialects. A Great Eagle had it for lunch after it insulted Lord Manwe one time too many. Then there was that viper – a deadly poisonous critter my lady took to carrying about in her bodice. It bit Lord Salgant on his hand when Idril agreed to dance with him. His hand swelled up to twice its normal size and had to be bled for a week. The healers were even considering cutting it off at one point. That would mean the end of his harp-playing, and a loss to Gondolin.

Why can’t Idril keep a normal pet like a cat, canary, or a hound? Well, her father gifted her falcon – a fine pet for nobility except this specimen must have a delicate stomach. It keeps barfing on me every time I am near it. To keep her father happy, Idril takes the bird out once in a while. There was also that goldfish Lord Ecthelion gave her. She finds it boring and handed it to me so that I may have company as I try to work on that novel or write letters on her behalf.

Maybe I will write a tale of great adventure about a goldfish… Nah, it will never work out. I might even get evicted from the Lambengolmor for writing such whimsical drivel. Oops, where did the goldfish go? Bad kitty!

Pengolodh, royal scribe 

P.S. Maybe I can write a tale of a wizard, evil cats, and a brave hound… Then I will publish it under a penname.

* * *

 

_First Age 285, Gondolin_

The mind boggles and much damage and mischief our fine Lords and Lady Aredhel can rack up between them in the course of one week. It had started with Lord Glorfindel’s galloping through the streets on a dare, naked atop his horse. I suppose that was a lot tamer than it sounded since he wore his long hair down. It is whole lot more intimidating encountering him in the common baths doing his exercises sans towel. Next was Lord Rog’s new sport – the hammer-throw. That wiped out several fancy stained glass windows in Lord Ecthelion’s house. Ecthelion returned the favour by re-routing the waterworks so the fountains all drained into Lord Rog’s street. Unfortunately, that meant two thirds of the city’s smiths were left with sodden forges. The following day, the King was greeted by a list of damages incurred by his sister kicking off a tavern brawl that culminating in several houses being razed along a seedy street. An irate Great Eagle had Lord Penlod returned to the King’s House after he was caught trying to pluck a feather from its baby’s tail. Who started that rumour about Great Eagle fledgling feathers being good luck charms? Penlod did not look too lucky covered with bird poo. But I guess Ada Eagle could do a lot worse to him for messing with his young ones. Besides, we rely on the fine birds to keep the city safe.

Then Aranwe’s lad, Voronwe had to haul Lords Duilin and Salgant in for fighting in the streets over the attentions of some tavern wench. By mid-week, every Lord had been hauled in before King Turgon for various offences running the gauntlet from indecent exposure to attempted Kinslaying. No, milord Egalmoth, wrapping your valet in a fancy padded vest and ordering him to jump off the walls is not a sound way of testing out your new contraption. It will take a lot more than thick padding to keep him from smashing his head open. Someone finally had the guts to get round to arresting Lady Aredhel for reckless endangerment of innocents with her hunting games. I hope the constable does not mind being a walking target for the next two months or so, until some other elf earns her ire.

During Market Day, we had a full-on brawl between the House of the Tree and the House of the Pillar – something about that catchy ditty Lord Galdor made up about ‘Lord of Bird-poo’ Penlod. Right in the Great Market. That put an end to my day off. Lady Idril has mustered her personal staff to send baskets of fruits and flowers as apologies for the stalls wrecked and injuries suffered. Somehow I drew the short straw to visit both Lords Galdor and Penlod with a tersely-worded invitation to meet at the King’s House for mediation, Turgon’s secretary having been caught up in the scuffle and busy nursing a broken leg in the House of Healing.

Pengolodh, royal scribe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is going a bit stir-crazy being stuck in Gondolin. I do imagine what type of relationship the citizens of Gondolin have with the resident Great Eagles.


	5. That Road Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aredhel leaves Gondolin, much to our scribe’s relief.

_First Age 316, Gondolin_

Never has there been such joy in the city as at news of His Majesty’s decision to finally allow his sister to leave Gondolin to visit their father the High King in Mithrim. I do wonder if I can get a place in the escort. It has been far too long since I have heard anything from my folks in Nervast (or them from me). Any more mealworms in my inkpot and I might just tender my resignation, not that there are that many job opportunities in the other Houses of Gondolin. The council is still out as to whether any of the other Lords (besides Ecthelion and Penlod) are literally inclined. Rumour has it Glorfindel is dyslexic and Rog is illiterate. Oh the horror. Ecthelion does maintain a fine collection of music books and scrolls in his House and Penlod’s library has even the loremasters green with envy. He also employs a dozen full-time librarians just to keep the place in order. Getting a book out past those harridans is another matter. 

Back to the upcoming visit.

Lady Aredhel declared that she did not need any maidservants or pages to wait on her every whim and that she will be travelling light. She has no intention of moving to Mithrim (much to the household’s dismay). It is only a short visit. Still, His Majesty insisted she choose some warriors for her escort. One can never be too safe with the minions of Morgoth still loose outside as far as we know. So the lucky warriors are Lords Egalmoth, Glorfindel, and Ecthelion.

Wait, is this even wise considering Lady Aredhel was playing musical chairs with their beds over the past year? I know Ecthelion still has hopes of wooing her… There was that time at the Festival of Flowers the princess was caught skinny-dipping in the Great Fountain with the Lord of the Golden Flower. Then there was the time Turgon caught Egalmoth sneaking out of his sister’s bedchamber in the wee hours. When word reached Ecthelion, he issued a challenge to Egalmoth in council and Lady Idril had to act as mediator to stop a kinslaying. Then a tipsy Glorfindel had to add fuel to fire by strolling in singing a risque ballad dedicated to the White Lady’s rump (among other intimate parts of her anatomy). So what can go wrong?

I suppose we might end up with at least 2 dead elves before anyone gets to Mithrim or (if they ever reach an agreement) an orgy in the woods. Not sure which is worse. Still, things should settle a bit without Aredhel around to stir things up.

Pengolodh, royal scribe

P.S. Lady Idril is trying to pre-empt any unpleasantness by having the three lucky lords swear an oath by Lord Manwe not to harm their colleagues. She even managed to coax an Eagle into giving up a feather for them to swear on.

* * *

 

_First Age 316, Gondolin_

Lords Glorfindel, Ecthelion, and Egalmoth are back in the city and they are cooling off in the dungeons while Turgon cools his temper over them losing Aredhel on the way to Mithrim (not that I blame them). Idril is taking the more practical action of having letters written to her Uncle Fingon in Mithrim and other Noldor lords Aredhel is likely to seek out. Wait, do they include the Feanorions? Because I see one draft addressed to Cousin Celegorm. Should we inform the High King? It’s his daughter missing after all.

Well, it could be worse with all four elves dead or missing. Our lords seem to have made it out unscathed, if you ignore their gibberish about giant spiders and killer trees. Idril had some healers sent down to take a look at the trio in the dungeons, just to make sure they don’t have a fever or some nasty encounter with orc-poison.

Must really rush off now. Those letters are waiting to be written and sent out.

Pengolodh, royal scribe

 


	6. You Lost What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout from runaway Aredhel is not over by a long shot.

_First Age 316, Gondolin_

Turgon has just received a very angry letter from his father rebuking him over losing his sister. Then there was one from his big brother Fingon, and his aunt Lalwen, and his cousin Finrod… Guess who landed up with the job of writing the apologies and explanations. I will not be surprised if the Great Eagles go on strike after this. I mean, it is not as though they are the official Gondolin postal service. We do not have a functioning one – seeing the last lord tasked with managing it wound up having a meltdown and burning all the letters in his forge. Seriously, whose idea was it to flood the system with cheap adverts for armour and weapons while deriding the quality of Lord Rog’s work?

I am sure Idril bribed the Eagles in some way to carry her letters out to her relations. Perhaps some fresh rabbit from the kitchen hutches? I think the Eagles enjoy watching King Turgon’s reactions to those rebukes coming from his elders and peers. Well, Finrod’s letter was the most forgiving. Something along the lines of ‘surprised it took that long for her to run away’ and promised to keep a look out for her.

Naturally, His Majesty’s father and aunt are furious with him for messing up. His brother slightly more understanding on the grounds it was expected to happen anyway and she should have been let out more often for visiting. The two remaining Arafinwion brothers had not seen her in their part of Beleriand but will gladly take her on in their army for her archery skills and horsemanship. We do not expect Lady Galadriel to have seen her anywhere in Doriath. Feanorion responses run along the general theme of cowardly knave, incompetent moron, and did your Amme drop you on your head when you were born? Not sure why Celegorm sent a fresh boar’s head with ‘Turukano Nolofinwion’ stamped on it. His Majesty’s not replying to that one.

The High King promised to give Turgon an earful about letting Aredhel travel with such a sorry excuse for an escort. Turgon requested the Eagles not to, under any circumstances, lead his father to Gondolin. Doubt they heard him. If they did, they are unlikely to listen. Glorfindel once tried talking them into dropping a few random orcs or wargs into his yard for training purposes. They dropped him a dead cow through the roof. The place stank for weeks afterwards.

Now let’s start on those letters…

Pengolodh, royal scribe

* * *

 

_First Age 326, Gondolin_

All’s peaceful in Gondolin. No news of our White Lady yet from Outside. We keep expecting her to turn up though. There is a trend for the local bards to weave some fancy tale about her. Methinks she will use them for target practice when she gets back and hears their mawkish nonsense. Frail maiden lost in wilds she is most definitely not.

Idril has taken in a family of squirrels and we are finding nuts in the oddest places, like in one’s cup and shoes. I even have an acorn bobbing in my ink well and tiny inky pawprints all over my table. At least the squirrels were better house guests than her wolverine. Smelly critter took over my study for its den and bit me when I tried evicting it. It had to go when Turgon drew the line after the critter took to killing the neighbours’ pet cats and dogs.  

The Lords seem to be engaged in trying to one-up each other in sheer spectacle now they are not busy vying for the White Lady’s affections. Lord Ecthelion had his entire household re-attired and re-liveried at no small cost after Egalmoth did his overhaul of his servants. The weekly Nobles’ Parade is now a sight to behold with the lords and their men-at-arms in their best attire. Even His Majesty feels hard pressed to keep up. At least the armourers, smiths, and tailors find much employment thanks to them.

Another pastime of our nobles (other than getting into drunken scrapes), is building thanks to His Majesty’s encouragement. He has been trying to encourage his court to partake in more wholesome activities with varying success. The orchestra idea was a hit with Salgant and Ecthelion, but the rest of the lords protested on grounds their musical talent is limited only to naughty drinking songs. The Gondolin Games worked out fine for a while, until post-Games brawling became an expected part of the festivities (along with resultant property damage and injuries).

I hope this gate-building endeavour will work out. Or we might just have a glaring hole in the wall when it is over. What was wrong with the original one at the main entrance anyway?

Pengolodh, senior royal scribe

P.S. Just as expected with that silly spindly column design, the gate has collapsed during construction. I am no architect but that heavy facade on top was pushing it. Back to the drawing board.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the city misses Aredhel more than it realizes.


	7. Return of the Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone is back and she is not alone. It’s that family drama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pengolodh has to pull off some serious rewriting of events to save everyone’s reputations (except Eol’s).

_First Age 400, Gondolin_

Aredhel is back from Outside and she’s not alone. There was some stripling she introduced to us as her son – a surly youngster, I must say, wild-looking with his tattooed arms. A bit shy too, hiding behind her skirts. I for one will like to know whose brat he is. Also will like to know where our runaway princess has been holed up all this while. Idril had the staff whip up a quick meal to welcome her aunt and new cousin home. Baths and clean garments also readied since the pair seem to have made their way here with nothing but the rags on their backs. King Turgon has to put his foot in it by demanding to know who the bastard’s sire is (putting it mildly). Naturally, Aredhel reacted in her typical way saying that whether she’s wedded or not is none of her nosey brother’s business. That was when I decided discretion trumps curiosity and made my exit via the kitchens.

Just when I thought I have escaped being dragged into another family drama, I encountered Lords Egalmoth and Glorfindel dragging another rather wild-looking ellon through the streets in chains. He was yelling in some weird tongue, could this be some proto-orc tongue? Wait, I think that is just his Avarin accent. He’s yelling for his wife and son in mangled Sindarin. Lord Egalmoth commandeered me into translation duty (I do hope I still have the knack for it, having not conversed with a native-speaking Avari since moving here).

So we have Eol, some random Avari smith Aredhel decided to hook up with and have a child by, being dragged into a private family quarrel between His Majesty and his sister. Given how loud the pair can quarrel, the private matter quickly becomes public knowledge with the rest of the Lords (hopeful romantic Lord Ecthelion included) demanding to know the princess’ exact marital status. Aredhel took a breather from yelling at her brother to tell them to go bed a sow. Idril wisely ordered the windows and drapes of the Great Hall to be closed and drawn. The citizens were getting a tad too interested.

By now, Lord Rog decided it would be better if the king’s law-brother were not in chains. He had Eol freed and his belongings returned to him. Everyone seemed to have calmed down enough to establish that Aredhel’s son was fathered by Eol and no, they did not have the traditional Noldor wedding with all the frills (although they had been shacking up together in the woods).  I suppose that can be remedied by holding a wedding in Gondolin, Noldor-style of course.

The first part of the proper process involves kinsmen of the bride and the groom drinking together and getting suitably drunk before agreeing on a bride-price. It might have worked out if Turgon had not broached that law about staying in the Hidden City for life if you find the way there.

Turgon makes his offer to Eol as his kinsman to allow him to remain in the city for the rest of his life. Eol balks at the offer and asks to leave with his wife and son. Seems he is a minor lord of sorts and has his own people to think of. He cannot just leave them leaderless on whim. Turgon had me run a quick check on the laws and found the alternative is death (didn’t really think that one through, did we?). Being a stickler for the rules, Turgon tried again to convince the family to stay. Aredhel’s lad chimed in saying he fancies Gondolin to that hovel they call home.

That dark elf Eol got bit antsy and started waving his javelin about. Aredhel got stabbed in the arm and then collapsed to everyone’s horror. The lad turned to his father and demanded to know which javelin he took on the way out of the house – the poisoned one for orc-hunting or the ordinary one for regular hunts. Lady Idril, practical elleth, sent for the healers immediately.

I do not need foresight to know this will not end well, so I am out of there.

Pengolodh, senior royal scribe

P.S. Lord Penlod just cornered me in my study demanding I revise the official account of Lady Aredhel’s return, and that awkward bride-price negotiation between Eol and the king.

P.P.S. Note to self: bridegrooms should be kept an arm’s length from bride-price negotiations (or further).

* * *

 

_First Age 400, Gondolin_

Cannot believe Lady Aredhel would just hie off to Mandos like this with nary a whimper. Somehow we always imagined her going out in a blaze of glory on the battlefield, taking down two dozen orcs or so with her arrows. After I quit the grand hall, Ecthelion decided to have Eol locked up in the root cellar until he is sober. Maeglin, who was in shock, had been packed off to the kitchens for a quick wash and a cup of tea, generously dosed with brandy, by his cousin. Maeglin’s Aredhel and Eol’s son. He looks a bit like his Nana but his eyes are strange like his Ada’s. Idril was busy tending to her injured aunt or I am sure she would have put a stop to the drinking that continued in the Great Hall. His Majesty got even more drunk into the night and started roaring about worthless hangers-on and wanting to be rid of a certain dark elf.

Aredhel passed into Lord Namo’s care sometime near dawn despite the healers’ best efforts. Idril came down to find her father passed out on his throne and the lords gone. A flustered cook came running to report that Lord Glorfindel and Ecthelion just came storming into her sanctum (her kitchen) and grabbed a sleeping Maeglin. They said something about tossing dark elves off the city walls to prove their worth to His Majesty. So Idril took off running to stop the disaster without even stopping to put on her shoes.

Too late for the older elf but Idril managed to stop the lords from tossing her cousin over the wall. This is going to be awkward to the max. To add on, Turgon awoke nursing a hangover and to quote him, he did not think his nobles would actually be listening to his drunken rants. Feel almost sorry for Maeglin – losing both his parents in such an idiotic manner. For an Avari, there could be worse fates, like getting dragged off to Angband in chains, right? Still, I foresee many awkward family dinners to come. I do hope King Turgon is not serious about taking in the lad as his ward. I mean, you did order his father’s death after all (even if you were too drunk to remember).

Pengolodh, senior royal scribe

P.S. Lord Galdor just cornered me in my study demanding I revise the official account of this morning’s happenings leading to the death of the king’s law-brother. How does drunken stag-party prank gone wrong sound?

P.P.S. I do hope the Lords do not make a habit of this… I mean, where else can a poor scribe have some privacy to indulge in poetry not approved by the respected guild of loremasters? Though I have it on good authority the guildmaster has a stash of the erotic stuff in his desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we thought the fallout from Elu Thingol’s bride-price negotiations with Beren was steep. Depending how you look at things, Pengolodh’s official histories are total revisionist BS on what happened – not that Aredhel and Eol could put the record straight on this side of the Sea and everyone else has a vested interest in sweeping it under that fancy Gondolinean carpet.


	8. Dear Cousin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maeglin struggles to adapt to Gondolin life. The Lords are not helping of course.

_First Age 402, Gondolin_

For the past two cycles of the sun, I have been tasked with the education of a prince of the House of Fingolfin. I must admit I was surprised he could actually speak passable Quenya (though we need to fix that rustic accent). His reading needs working on and his penmanship leaves much to be desired. The etiquette lessons are a headache. Idril kindly deigned to help me but her cousin goes all stuttering whenever he practises the proper forms of courtly address with her. I am not sure how His Majesty expects this Avari bumpkin to ever be a part of the royal court. I mean, look how gauche he looks in his dull garments. I think the preference for dark colours must be inherited from his Avari Ada. Still, we need some colour here.

Idril has forbidden the lords from taking him into the seedier parts of the city after they almost had him drowned in a large keg of ale last month. She made an exception for Lord Rog’s forge seeing how smith-work appeals to the lad. He even tried to make some special armour for Idril but the helm is simply not her style.

The boy’s health is lacking too. What self-respecting Noldo suffers from migraines and heatstroke when out too long in the sun? What’s this about wanting to hide away indoors instead of jousting and merrymaking on a beautiful summer’s day? Fine, I spend my days indoors too but that is because of my work transcribing scrolls. His Majesty had his healers see to his nephew but their tonics just make him sick. It must be his Avarin blood. Idril is so kind to him when he gets sick, sitting by his bedside reading to him. Wait, is this even a good idea given he is at that age ellyn tend to get funny ideas about ellyth? He might actually think you have a thing for him.

Pengolodh, senior royal scribe

* * *

 

_First Age 420, Gondolin_

Moles! Out of all creatures to catch Lady Idril’s fancy, it has to be moles this time! I mean, who can love a blind, black, wriggly thing that only digs and eats? The gardeners like them for eating slugs but too many and you find your garden a blasted wasteland. Please keep your pets under control, or we might find less food on our tables. This mole-mania has even caught our Avari prince. Just when I thought we managed to get some polish on him, he goes digging in the dirt with his cousin. Fie! You two are too old to be mucking in the dirt like barefoot elflings!

On the bright side, Idril seems to be cutting back her mothering of her cousin. The lad needs to grow up and stand on his own two feet after all. You can’t keep reading bedtime stories or spoon-feed him when he is feeling poorly-

No thanks, milord, I am not touching a mole to feel how smooth its coat is. Your royal uncle thinks you are ready to head your own House. What will the court think if they see you covered in dirt like a beggar? Same for you, milady. How would we ever find you a husband?

Pengolodh, senior royal scribe

* * *

 

_First Age 450, Gondolin_

This fine day we had the youngest ever lord to head a House in Gondolin, who promptly commits the largest ever faux pas since Lord Salgant took the phrase ‘casual dress’ to mean show up for dinner with the king in his garishly-coloured dressing gown. We don’t know what Avari customs are but proposing to your first cousin is a no-no where we Noldor are concerned. And Maeglin just did it in front of the entire royal court. Lady Idril was so embarrassed she took off running and everyone else was scandalized. Lord Penlod suggested His Majesty strip our wayward prince of his honours but Turgon decided to give him a chance.

No, I don’t think running after your cousin is wise now. Perhaps you should get to know your colleagues better. They seem most eager to meet you in private…

Pengolodh, senior royal scribe

* * *

 

_First Age 450, Gondolin_

Last night after the banquet, the Lords of Gondolin carried out their initiation of Maeglin, son of Aredhel, in some obscure ritual that even I as a loremaster of the city am unaware of. Somehow it involved loads of alcohol, stripping the new lord naked and tying him up between the Two Trees in the King’s Square. They then drenched him in molasses and set a beehive loose on him. Duilin swears that it has nothing to do with the faux pas he committed in front of the entire court. Idril was not amused her cousin will now have to spend a week in the House of Healing. She was less amused when Salgant sent the lustiest wench in the city to Maeglin’s ward as an apology. Though I think with the swelling he ended up with in his manly bits, it will be a miracle of Yavanna if the king’s nephew can partake of the wench’s charms. 

Turgon had a little talk with his daughter and persuaded her it would be best for Maeglin to start manning up by roughhousing with the other lords instead of helping her knit wee sweaters for her pet kittens and ducklings. He can’t keep hiding behind her skirts. As a Noldo, he is expected to be a warrior, not keep house. And what about those library books were poring over with him? Surely you were not helping him choose a device for his House?  

As for the rest of the lords, they are stuck on guard duty rotation, but methinks they will ‘persuade’ their men to stand in for them on the Gate. Overheard Lord Rog murmuring that they should have taken his suggestion and set fire to Maeglin’s farts after feeding him beans. I hear Lord Rog has developed the annoying habit of ‘motivating’ his men by dropping live coals down the backs of their shirts and pants for shoddy work. I sometimes wonder at how we ended up with such – better not go there, lest I end up covered in bees or worse. Still, our Lord of the House of the Mole (he must be desperate all the good names were taken) has no shortage of volunteers from the House of the Hammer of Wrath seeking to serve him. Must be the pleasure of hammering out a horseshoe without a live coal falling down your back.

Pengolodh, senior royal scribe

P.S. Just spotted Idril and a couple of the kitchen maids exercising with broomsticks in the courtyard and they aren’t sweeping the floor. Methinks a warrior dwells in our princess behind the embroidery screens and dancing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I picture Maeglin in this crack fic as a bit of a momma’s boy and an awkward nerd rather than the canonic creepy stalker. And the Lords of Gondolin are the eternal college frat party.


	9. King of the Molehill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magelin fancies himself in love with Idril. Romance is never his strong suit. Puppy love starts slipping into stalker territory.

_First Age 452, Gondolin_

There is perseverance, and there is just plain creepy. Guess which one our misguided Avari lord falls under with his recent attempts to win Idril’s favour. It is sweet that you still remember her pet moles, but training offspring of said moles to spell out her name in molehills on the King’s croquet green did not go well, did it? Moles are rodents and we expect complaints from all the gardeners and city farmer when your escaped pets and their descendants start tunnelling and ruining everyone’s gardens and bringing a sticky end to our lawn games. Scoring at nine-pins is hard enough without molehills cramping your style. Turning some of the remaining moles still in your care into a pair of moleskin gloves did not go down well either. Never mind if they were velvety soft and you have started a craze for fur in the city. Everyone guard their furry pets, lest they wind up as a pelt.

What does it take to get it into your thick skull that she does not like you that way? I imagine you have a thicker skull than even an orc. I fear that with the recent fox fur stole debacle – are you truly that clueless about Lady Idril’s new pet fox – the object of your obsession might be taking out keep-away-from-me orders and I have no doubt my liege will support his daughter. Have you not noticed that we no longer seat the both of you together at formal functions, even though you are King Turgon’s heir-apparent? King Turgon is such a stickler for the rules I doubt he ever considered the possibility that Lady Idril might be a fine leader in her own right.

Lord Maeglin’s new dwelling is finally up and his cousin enlisted the help of the other lords to help him move out of her father’s place. I doubt she meant bundle him bodily up with his dirty laundry, drag him across the city, and leave him outside on the pavement for his men to pick up. I do wonder why Lords Galdor and Duilin agreed to help so readily rather than find some excuse to avoid work.

Pengolodh, senior royal scribe

P.S. I might just want to get myself a pair of rabbit fur slippers. I hear they are so soft and warm, just the thing for cold nights in the scriptorium.

* * *

 

_First Age 455, Gondolin_

The mole situation has gotten so bad, that the master masons blame them for destabilizing the foundations of the city walls. Work is being carried out to fix the walls and strengthen the foundations. The Great Gate of Gondolin (the latest iteration erected by Lord Penlod’s House of the Tower of Snow) collapsed in the most spectacular fashion during His Majesty’s annual circuit of the city wards – at least everyone present got out of the way of the falling masonry. Know any pest-catchers around? And why is it always the Greatest Gate of the city’s main thoroughfare that gets the most damage. I hear the other six are still standing and have been so since the city was first built. Don’t ask me. I have had no reason to pass that way.  

Turgon has assigned the task of rebuilding the last of the gates of the city to his nephew in the hopes that it will keep him occupied and distracted him from any inappropriate ideas about his daughter. Good luck with that. It was amusing seeing the lords deal him on Lady Idril’s behalf (though I doubt she approved of some of the more drastic means used), it is getting monotonous. To avoid his daughter being hassled by his nephew, Turgon made it mandatory for at least one of the other lords to escort her on her forays into the city. I doubt the lords agree with the arrangement – the princess’ company ends at the threshold of the King’s House and Idril has made it clear they should not expect invitations to her bed. Oh, and she expects them to be both courteous and sober in the course of their duty. Good luck with that too.

During the past year, we have watched Maeglin getting hung by his heels off the city walls, dunked into the Great Fountain, and dragged behind a speeding oxcart (Ecthelion sold his chariot and has yet to secure a new one). Lord Glorfindel had him sealed in a barrel and rolled down the steepest hill he could find in the vicinity (a gentle slope in the Way of the Arches). Rog had him hung from the rafters in a sack for his apprentices to practice their boxing on but seriously, I think a sandbag works better. I hear Lord Duilin is offering anyone who gets an arrow into our Lord Mole where it hurts without killing him a bag of gold (him being the one stuck as the princess’ chaperone instead of out courting his lady-love this week).

Pengolodh, senior royal scribe

P.S. Does it count if I poke Maeglin with an arrow instead of using a bow? I know he is in the habit of purchasing flowers around this time of the day…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I doubt Idril is as wild a companion as her aunt. Having to escort her would have been boring for the lords. There is a canonic tidbit about the last of the Seven Gates of Gondolin being built by Maeglin some time after the Battle of Unnumbered Tears.


	10. The Fall of the High King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maeglin grows into his own as Lord of his own House even as he loses his grandfather (whom he has never met before). He still hasn't got over Idril, unfortunately.

_First Age 455, Gondolin_

Lady Idril has voiced her concerns that her father’s plan to toughen her little cousin up by having him keep company with the rest of the Lords is not working at all. On the contrary, the pack (yes, I am referring to our fine lords) should be picking up some good habits from him instead – like hard work and sobriety. I was surprised to learn from Idril that our Mole Lord does not drink to such excesses as his colleagues do. Something about hating hard liquors thanks to his Ada’s moonshine. I must also attest that he is one of the few Lords in Gondolin who actually does some proper work instead of idling away in the taverns and houses of ill-repute. Well, Lord Rog runs a functioning forge, Lord Penlod maintains a decent library, Lord Salgant does give regular recitals at the Dusky Dove bar... No one can touch the House of the Mole for quality armour and weapons. Even His Majesty has orders with them. In addition, Maeglin seems to be much beloved by his men as a fair master. Either that or the boys feel sorry for him having to be the butt of all the other lords’ jokes. As Lady Idril does not wish to encourage false hope (he is still persevering in his misguided courtship), she has charged me with watching out for him…

Wait, is it safe to get between the other lords and their sport?

Milady! I am but a humble scribe. How can I stand between the might of the lords and your cousin? Is it any wonder that he has petitioned your father to allow him leave to ‘see to his father’s lands’? We shall not speculate on the times Elemmakil has to escort him back into the city. Would it not be wiser to suggest discreetly that his Majesty instil some discipline in his noble lords through mandatory drills and arms training? Or should we revive the Gondolin games? It will keep them busy instead of idling about thinking up new ways to pick on your cousin. I bet Lord Glorfindel will love that. I heard he paid someone to let him wrestle a full-grown bull last week, having exhausted his friends and men. Lord Maeglin might still be up sparring with him, if he wasn’t still nursing that broken arm. I expect Lord Salgant might need to be dragged from his bed (he’s really not a morning elf) and Lord Ecthelion will grumble about getting his fine clothes filthy. Still, we are in the middle of a siege, right? It will never do to get soft… Unless of course, Morgoth has overrun the outside world and all hope is lost for Arda.

Pengolodh, senior royal scribe

P.S. Has anyone seen any Eagles recently, I believe we have not had them visit for a while. Is there not any news from Outside at all?

* * *

 

_First Age 456, Gondolin_

Why me? Just because I am a loremaster, it does not make me a master in the matters of the heart. I have just had Lord Maeglin approach me in the market, asking me why is it he is still not able to win Lady Idril’s heart. Firstly, by Noldor norms, a union between two first cousins is never acceptable. It really does not matter even if you try standing out from the crowd by dressing in black and going emo. It is nice that Lord Salgant advised you to polish your singing but really, it will not work. We know from your music tutor you lack the aptitude. I suppose Lord Glorfindel might be more tone-deaf than you… who can forget his rendition of _Wings of Love_? That ended his relationship with Lady Merril. She decided to marry her butler to get a peaceful night’s sleep. At least his nightly serenades drove the moles away from the city. Alas, they were replaced with cats from miles about. Now we have a stray cat problem. I advised Prince Maeglin to join the rest of the court when they head up the mountain tomorrow instead of hiding in his forge like he always does. Who knows? There might be a sweet elleth waiting to meet him. I suppose Lord Galdor and the others might just want to dangle him off the cliffs or pull some prank, but hey, there is still a chance of meeting your soulmate.

Having escaped Maeglin, I was surprised by Lady Idril in the dining room, who wanted my opinion on dissuading Maeglin’s improper obsession with her. She has tried ignoring him and given him the cold shoulder. However, the ice-maiden treatment seems to have him attracted to her more strongly. She does not wish to intensify the bullying her cousin already receives at the hands of his colleagues by kicking up too big a fuss trying to push him away. Still, her patience is fast running out. I suppose you could marry a suitable ellon and quash any remaining hopes. Well, Idril’s not going to be forced by anyone into a marriage. It is not for want of suitors or His Majesty’s exacting standards for a law-son that the lady remains unwed.

“Master Pengolodh, can you imagine me waiting on a husband and nursing babies?” she laughed and strolled off to join the others in the kitchen preparing for tomorrow.  

Well, Lady Aredhel said the same thing in her time. I hope you will make wiser choices than she did for a husband. Why don’t you spend the rest of the day with your ladies preparing the offerings for tomorrow’s trip up the mountain. Perhaps you might meet a suitable ellon… Oh, wait…

Pengolodh, senior royal scribe

P.S. Can someone persuade Lady Idril to sit out tomorrow’s ceremony? I fear she might be tempted to push him off that narrow mountain path up if he pesters her.

* * *

 

_First Age 456, Gondolin_

This is a dark day indeed. Our king has just buried his father, the High King of all Noldor in Exile. It was quite a nasty shock - the high-ranking members of the court having gone up the mountaintop to make offerings to Lord Manwe and his lady when his messengers dropped the High King’s corpse at His Majesty’s feet, so I heard from Idril. He was too fragile for the Lords to bring off the mountain, so Idril (practical elleth) suggested they buried him there where the Eagle left him, under a pile of rocks of course to keep from being blown off by the next storm. Some might think it a bit hasty to bury a king with so little pomp, but a storm was brewing and there is no sense sticking around to get hit by lightning. A great flaming pyre will announce the city’s location to all.

Why is it whenever the Eagles do bring news from Outside, it is rarely good? Morgoth has broken the Siege of Angband and his forces have overrun much of the north, bringing flame and ruin in their wake. I suppose the resident bards will be weaving some fanciful ballad of the High King’s valour and we will hear about it all over many banquets to come.  Alright, it is a deed of valour to take on the might of one formerly of the Valar in single combat, but where does that leave us? I do hope Crown Prince Fingon still lives to succeed his father or Gondolin’s hidden city status might be at an end. But I can’t imagine His Majesty actually going Outside to reign as High King. Or the High King’s court might just have to pick someone else to be FIngolfin’s successor. Does anyone know if Prince Fingon ever married?

Maeglin was shaken by the encounter too. He was more than a little upset to learn that he actually had a living grandfather until quite recently and wanted to know more about his extended family. I have met Prince Fingon once or twice in my youth (at a distance), but you might fare better asking Idril on that topic (if she is willing to risk talking to you). He’s miffed with me I did not include Finwion royal history as part of his education, but we were having more than enough problems getting your Quenya grammar straight without stepping into that quagmire. I was surprised His Majesty did not at least mention Fingolfin or Fingon. We know Idril spoke quite a fair bit about Aredhel (minus all the wild antics) to her little cousin. Didn’t you peg Lord Maeglin as your heir-apparent? Don’t you think he should at least know who his allies Outside are?

Hopefully, Lomion’s interest in his Noldor family might just keep him from pestering Lady Idril. I hear he has sent a request for an invitation to Lord Penlod’s library. However, I do wonder how many of His Majesty’s kin are still Outside. I suppose no one will miss the Feanorions much… On the contrary, I know some who will celebrate the end of their blighted line.

Pengolodh, senior royal scribe

P.S. His Majesty has just decided to revive the Gondolin Games as a great send-off for his sire in-lieu of his less-than-grand burial. Er, wouldn’t it be more useful to check on the situation Outside, sire? I see Idril has gone to get a plump rabbit from the kitchen…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pengolodh is starting to question Turgon’s policy regarding Gondolin. I imagine Idril as being quite level-headed about the situation. If her father’s going to stick his head in the sand and hide, it is up to her to bribe the Eagles for news from Outside.


	11. Guests from Afar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Hurin and Huor would be quite a breath of fresh air as the first Men in Gondolin. Lord Ulmo is meddling by giving Turgon dreams again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a little re-write to insert the running gag of a certain future High King’s unknown parentage.

_First Age 458, Gondolin_

Lady Idril got her wish in a big way for news of Outside. The Eagles delivered to our hidden city two Mannish brothers – Hurin and Huor. Surprised His Majesty did not boot them out immediately. Apparently Lord Ulmo has been giving him dreams and warning him to look kindly on the Men of the House of Hador. Or he might want to have a dungeon built to keep them – young men do tend to prattle after a few drinks and oops, there goes the secret path to hidden Gondolin.

Lady Idril has instructed the household to treat Masters Hurin and Huor with courtesy. That also includes the Lords of Gondolin. She made an exception and allowed Glorfindel to show them about the city’s taverns. Hopefully, no one ends up tripping and falling off the city walls. The brothers have also been given fine clothes to replace the rags they arrived in. We will burn the rags as who knows what manner of pestilence may lurk within. Glorfindel and several of the lords are quite interested in hearing of great battles and smiting of orcs from the brothers. I do think they feel sort of left out of the battle against the Dark Lord. Lady Idril even made a rare visit to the House of the Mole with her guests so her cousin could be updated on the armour and weapons in vogue Outside. I suppose they are less shiny and glittery than what we have in Gondolin. I hear from the gardener our prince was a bit disappointed as the House of Hador weren’t that up-to-date in that aspect. The lads were using hand-me-down weapons from the time of their grandfathers (gifts from then-Prince Fingon) and boiled leather for armour.

Between Lady idril and her father, we did manage to fill in some of gaps in the news we have been getting from the Eagles in drips and drabs – Fingon apparently got married and had a son before he got crowned. The little prince’s name’s Gil-galad and they packed him off to Cirdan’s. He has not been heard from since, which is not exactly reassuring. Orodreth lost Minas Tirith after holding out for close to a year and has fled with his daughter to Nargothrond. Try explaining to Uncle Finrod his fancy tower is now a den of werewolves. From the brothers, we learn that the Mannish allies of the Eldar have suffered as well in the past years. Oh, Finrod’s brothers are in Mandos courtesy of a dragon. Finrod has sworn an oath of friendship to Barahir of the House of Beor after the latter saved his life. Finrod seems to be keen on calling down his own doom given how all Oaths sworn by the descendants of Finwe tend to go bad quickly. The Feanorions have lost ground too with Maglor joining Mad Maedhros in Himring and brothers Curufin and Celegorm forced to beg Finrod for shelter in his city. Better Nargothrond host those vipers than Gondolin, I say. It is almost a pity the Feanorions are still alive. But Eagles do get their elves confused at times and one can always hope.

I suppose I should prepare a notice to inform the people but His Majesty insists there is no hurry. Instead, he seems to be distracted by some dream over the past nights. He has asked for any sailors and shipwrights in the city to be brought before him. I believe we have few of them as it is, most choosing to remain in Nervast or with Cirdan. I think Lord Ecthelion’s secretary Aranwe had a grandfather who was a fisherman back in Valinor. Perhaps you can check with him. Why the sudden interest in ships, sire? You never were one for the sea.

Back to our Mannish guests - they are a real hit with most of the lords. I do suppose Mannish drinking games and songs are a novelty for them. It is not as though we are really up-to-date on the fashions outside. Ecthelion and Egalmoth got ragged a fair bit over their fine threads once the boys got over the formal politeness with a few rounds of drinks. The Mannish style is practicality above all else. They just don’t get the Eldars’ need for bright shining baubles. Well, I do suppose a fine bejewelled breastplate is no use if it fails to keep you alive in battle. Glorfindel was horrified when Hurin suggested he ought to tie up his hair or keep it short Mannish-style. We know how proud he is of his flowing golden tresses. Huor added that being yanked off a horse by one’s hair will really cramp one’s style on the field of battle. Maeglin wisely decided not to partake in the drinking sessions. After all, it tends to end with him being half-drowned in the fountain for giggles (being the smallest of the lords and thus the easiest to manhandle).  

Pengolodh, senior royal scribe

* * *

 

_First Age 459, Gondolin_

The party is over for our Mannish boys and Turgon has had the Eagles send them on their way. Hopefully, between the Eagles and the circling mountains, they would have no idea where the city is. The king would love to keep them in the city but orders are orders, I guess, even if they come in dreams. They were a refreshing breath of air to the city, even if they were stinky, unwashed and stubbly when they first arrived. Why do the Secondborn males come with beards? Most elves don’t have to bother with them, unless you are Cirdan (who is way older than the Sun and Moon, and probably babysat Elu Thingol when he was an elfling). Their rough and rugged looks made the pair a hit with the ladies (Princess Idril included, unfortunately). There must be a sea of broken hearts in their wake. His Majesty even gave orders to the servants to on no account leave the princess unattended with any of the lads. Idril is a sensible elleth but ellyth tend to get silly when they fancy themselves in love. How else can we explain Lady Aredhel shacking it up with some Avari? 

Thankfully, between the lords chaperoning them about, they did not have time to form any highly unsuitable relationships with the fair ladies of Gondolin. That little incident in the linen closet between a saucy chambermaid and Hurin does not count. There is such a thing as taking hospitality too far, you know. The housekeeper had the wench dismissed post-haste. A real pity as I personally enjoyed the elleth’s company in the King’s House. 

I suppose it is now back to business as usual, except our king seems to be up to something with his summoning of any ellon who is capable of floating a boat. Milord, would it not be wiser to send a message to Lord Cirdan? He is the expert shipwright after all.

Talking about Cirdan and Outside, Turgon received a rather puzzling reply to the belated wedding gift he sent Fingon. Fingon stated that his being married was news even to him. He stands by his principles that he is not going to enter some loveless wedding (not in Aman, or here) just for dynastic reasons. If his court demanded an heir, he could have his pick of Finrod’s House, seeing all the beauty, brains, and brawn ended up with them as attested by his cousin Artanis. He will bear in mind to skip Orodreth as everyone knows his wits were dulled after getting kicked in the head by his pony as an elfling.

Pengolodh, senior royal scribe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sound advice from the brothers there, which Glorfindel failed to take. I am not sure if my crack-fic version of Maeglin the nerd is working alright, since he is without a doubt the villainous traitor in the official histories of Gondolin. Any feedback on this?


	12. Unnumbered Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Turgon leaves Gondolin for the first time in years and returns High King of the Noldor in Exile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a scribe, Pengolodh has no reason to ride into battle alongside his lord, so his information is second-hand.
> 
> A tiny rewrite made to play up the gag on the future Gil-galad’s parentage.

_First Age 472, Gondolin_

On this glorious day, my liege Turgon, son of Nolofinwe, High King of the Noldor, returned victorious from the field of battle… Who am I kidding? The armies of the Eldar and our allies were trounced. The High King who rode into battle from Hithlum now lies dead on the field of battle. His brother and successor only managed to get his heart to keep it from being desecrated by orcs (or to keep it away from a certain mad cousin whose hare-brained scheme ended in disaster). The heart now lies buried in a casket beside the cairn of their father. The rest of him was too battered to bring back for burial. To honour his brother’s valour, we have added a scarlet heart to the standard of the House of the King. 

Well, it wasn’t really planned. The Lords were clamouring to be let out of Gondolin for some action when the Eagles informed them the rest of the Eldar were massing with their Mannish and Dwarvish allies. Turgon relented against his better judgement. Turgon and his men arrived late to the battle and narrowly escaped thanks to the brave sacrifice of a pair of Mannish brothers. I do suppose one can say the hospitality we lavished on the pair finally paid dividends. Now we are even. Prince Maeglin seemed more than a little shaken by his first taste of battle. Lad just took off to his room for the rest of the week. He missed the coronation of his uncle as High King, which was a real pity. Despite the rush, it was quite a regal event.

Idril instructed me to record the battle as honestly as possible, leaving out those outrageous claims made by the lords. I hear and obey, my lady. Even with Lord Glorfindel’s strength, one is hard-pressed to picture him taking on a Balrog barehanded. And Lord Rog smiting a dragon is just too crazy to consider – no one else saw dragons on the field, did they? Methinks Lord Rog took a real hard hit to his skull. Noticeably absent from the battlefield were the forces of Doriath, who wisely declined to join forces with the Feanorions.

One thing this little foray has proven is that our men have become soft thanks to the comforts of Gondolin. Idril is discreetly suggesting to her father we impose compulsory arms-training for the inhabitants but we are not sure how it will be received. Let’s be honest, we are more preoccupied with the finer things like music and the arts here. We are not barbarians like the Feanorions.

More worrisome news from outside – it seems that Fingon might really have an heir squirreled away somewhere, so that would really screw up the succession if the folks Outside crown Fingon’s lad as High King. Two High Kings are one too many for Beleriand. Did the lad fall in battle with his father perhaps? Then there was a letter from Lord Cirdan mentioning something about guardianship of a young Gil-something. The rest of the letter was illegible because the Eagle who delivered it dropped it into the Great Fountain. Cirdan does have an annoying habit of granting similar pet names on the elflings in his care. I recall Lord Galdor once mentioned there were three Galdors, four Gil-somethings, five Rumils and seven Gelmirs running about his house in Falas, and some of those were even ellyth.

More letters from the Feanorions challenging Turgon to actually show himself Outside if he is indeed High King by the law of succession. Turgon’s response to them is that he (and his subjects) will ignore the barking of mad dogs.

Pengolodh, senior royal scribe

P.S. Why is it none of the Feanorions got killed in battle despite the heavy losses suffered by our forces? There is something downright uncanny about them.

P.P.S. Maeglin is taking it on himself to actually make something decent for the main gate of our city in memory of the lives lost. Hopefully it will be something sturdy instead of the fanciful and short-lived gates put up by the other Lords.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In canon, the Sindar of Doriath did not join the Union of Maedhros. In the coming years, Morgoth’s forces would overrun Beleriand’s Elvish strongholds one by one, leaving Gondolin as the last bastion of the Noldor.


	13. Barbarian at the Gate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuor arrives and makes quite an impression on the elves. Pengolodh is not too impressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some liberties taken with dates as there seems to be different versions of when the events happened.

_First Age 496,_ _Gondolin of course (Were you expecting Valinor?)_

Just when everyone has settled back into their humdrum lives in the city, our little Mole Prince completed his Gate of Steel, which was quickly tested by the arrival of one barbarian. Seriously, Voronwe. You need to take a leaf or two on how to select your companions. Some smelly, grizzled bandit you picked up by the wayside is not fit to be brought home to your family. Thankfully, the gate held, though its creator looked set to keel over to Mandos from a heart attack. Banging a helm against the door just as our prince was putting the finishing touches to his uncle’s statue at the top is not polite in the least, especially when you have a perfectly decent bell there for callers to ring. I suppose from that height, no one will notice the accidental addition of a moustache to His Majesty’s face.

The planned celebration in honour of the gate’s completion was promptly repurposed to welcome Tuor, son of Huor, favoured of Lord Ulmo. Actually, methinks all that mattered to their Lordships was His Majesty cracking open his best vintages. He could be celebrating the birth of his hunting dogs or buying a new cloak for all that mattered. I think the blame should lie with Lord Ecthelion for allowing Tuor to have an audience with the king. Tuor the bandit and that moron Voronwe should be allowed to stew in the dungeons for a night or two first for almost getting the king’s heir killed.

Maeglin did not partake in the festivities given that he was laid up in the House of Healing after tumbling off his own gate. He was saved from a one-way trip to Mandos due to a pile of steaming-hot manure Elemmakil’s lads dumped out front whilst clearing the guards’ stables. Idril sent him a fruit basket before going all ga-ga over Tuor’s biceps. I seriously do not see the attraction of these Mannish boys to the ellyth. Give them two decades or so and they will be all withered like old trees.

Pengolodh, senior royal scribe

* * *

 

_First Age 498,_ _Gondolin_

Found my former student deep in his cups in the local tavern – or rather, being helped by his colleagues into a beer barrel. Bit concerned for the little twerp. Maeglin deserves better than be troubled by his unseemly infatuation with his cousin. Why, if it weren’t for that social faux pas, he might even make a decent smith. Idril seems to have cast her hat at Tuor (who somehow managed to land a noble title with all trappings). Sire, you may slap a noble title on the man but he still looks and acts like a barbarian. House of the Wing, poetic name indeed. I bet that is Idril’s doing, just as her handmaidens found her stitching the emblem for his House as if she were already his lady-wife.

The House of the Mole are rallying about their master in his depression, setting up little projects and amusements to take his mind off things. It worked for a while, until Salgant suggested they surprise him with some obliging Idril lookalikes from a certain house of ill-repute in his bed. That drove him back into his forge where he has been hammering at his anvil ever since. On the upside, we never had such a high production of quality weaponry and armour from any smith. Then he moved on to household items…

Pengolodh, senior royal scribe

P.S. The thoughtful twerp sent me an iron inkwell. I think I sprained my wrist lifting it.

* * *

 

_First Age 502,_ _Gondolin_

Sire! We beseech you to reconsider! It is Lady Idril’s happiness of which we speak. I know it is seen as a grand thing that Thingol’s daughter wedded a Man but this is not something an Eldar should take lightly! I know the lady wasn’t born yesterday, or in the last hundred years, but she is clearly infatuated with the novelty of her Mannish beau. It is only a passing thing like a summer rain. She will regret her hasty decision when he starts greying, mark my words. Or she might start casting for husband number 2. I guess it is a little too late now the wedding date’s set and the invitations sent. Do you think we should at least inform Lord Cirdan and this Prince Gil-galad, if he even exists? He might actually be family to Idril.

Turgon issued an order to the Eagles not to interrupt his little girl’s wedding. The Great Eagles seem startlingly obliging. This is something that does not bode well. At least we’ll get wine flowing from the fountains and a feast. Is there not some part in ceremony where objections to the union might be raised? I believe Turgon might have enlisted the aid of his lords to ensure his nephew never gets a chance to protest. The Mole Lord is nowhere in sight and we have Glorfindel looking innocent as he holds a large wriggling burlap sack to which he deals out judicious punches at regular intervals.

The ceremony went off without a hitch. The Eagles behaved – they even scattered petals on the assembly as a grand finish. Then we heard distant yelling from outside the city. A young guardsman from the First Gate came riding in to announce there is some white-haired Mannish beggar outside demanding to be let in. King Turgon cuts off the lad with a regal wave of his hand. I agree. We do not need a Mannish beggar in our fair city fouling up the streets. On with the feasting and dancing. More so now that it is too late for the princess to back out without making a scene. If he had arrived earlier, Idril might change her mind about Tuor when she sees what he will become in the coming years.

One of the Eagles alighted for a quick nibble of whole roast hog and made an offhand remark to Turgon about it being an ill thing to turn away Hurin who had saved his butt and been imprisoned for his troubles by Morgoth since. Wow, never thought Turgon still had it in him to move that quickly. Of course, poor Hurin was long gone by then but it really put a damper on the wedding festivities all the same. Is it bad luck in Mannish lore to turn away a kinsman in need? I think Tuor believes so given how black his countenance was when he got the news.

Pengolodh, senior royal scribe

P.S. Just found Maeglin in his sack hanging from a tree where Glorfindel hoisted him while he attended to his lady-friends. Poor lad missed out on the dancing, but I got him some leftovers from the banquet. He could have met a decent elleth during the dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to get back in form to writing as I have been away for various reasons. It seems to be getting harder to write for any fandom or original work. I am thinking of changing my life focus from writing fiction to something else.


	14. The Little Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earendil is born to the delight of his family and promptly becomes a favourite of the Lords.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, the Lords of Gondolin are mostly lousy with children.

_First Age 503, Gondolin_

His Majesty has assigned me to join the House of the Wing as the princess’ scribe after her marriage to Tuor. I must say they did not waste any time adding to their little household. Tuor does have his good points seeing how he pampered Idril when she started increasing and getting those weird cravings at awkward hours so common to expectant mothers. Finding him milking cows in the dead of the night was unexpected, and that little foray into Lord Penlod’s greenhouse for oranges. I do suppose you could wake him up at midnight to ask permission first instead of breaking and entering. I did not really enjoy having to trot over the city guardhouse to bail out my master.

We were expecting the baby early given its father. Still, everyone was caught off-guard in the King’s House when Idril’s water broke while lunching with her father. It was chaos with servants being sent for the midwife and the other guests (our fine Lords) in a tizzy. Lord Maeglin kept his head on long enough to order the maidservants to get his cousin to the nearest bedroom lest she births right there on the dining room carpet. Then it was hours of tears, screaming, and cussing well into the night with Idril threatening to geld her husband for putting her in that situation. Note to self, forgo marriage and attendant fatherhood.

The Lords did not help much by getting the baby’s father drunk – you are supposed to pass the wine to celebrate after the baby’s born. It took a day and night before our little prince was born. I do suppose babies all look the same – pink, hairless, and wrinkly. At least he looks healthy, apart from the weird Mannish ears. His Majesty proudly announced to all and sundry he was a grandfather. The infant’s father was nursing too much of a hangover to care. He insisted everyone present pay homage to his grandson – somehow that involved a fragile newborn being passed around by semi-drunk nobles. How was that ever a good idea? Lord Galdor almost dropped the baby. Thankfully, Maeglin was quick enough to save the mite from a tumble down the stairs. The baby rewarded his cousin by piddling over his tunic. Then Glorfindel snatched the baby from the Mole Prince for a little victory dance. The infant’s outraged screams brought his Nana running out (having caught her second wind).

Despite having just given birth, Idril really put everyone back in their place with a sound tongue-lashing before taking her little one with her into the bedroom for a feeding. Being jostled about almost a dozen drunk lords would make anyone cranky. Chastised, everyone sheepishly takes their leave of the king (apart from Tuor, who was still out cold drunk). 

Pengolodh, principal scribe to the House of the Wing

* * *

 

_First Age 503, Gondolin_

The proud parents have named the little half-man prince Earendil Ardamire, but let’s just stick with Earendil. The Lords of Gondolin suddenly find themselves falling over each trying to be named his foster-father after Tuor told them about that quaint Mannish tradition of sending one’s sons to be trained outside one’s household shortly before they came of age, and not necessarily to a kinsman. This was a means of strengthening the bonds of friendship between the various Houses of Man.

Lord Glorfindel insists he will make a fine champion of the lad. Ecthelion and Salgant had a quarrel about the merits of the flute versus the harp. Rog insisted there is nothing more practical than smithwork for a Noldo. Lord Penlod insisted that instead of the heavy work of the forge, a prince should be better suited to the mastery of lore. Getting a migraine, the king decided that all the lords will have an equal chance to act as the lad’s foster-father, but he must insist that they stay sober and well-behaved. No tavern-crawling until the prince is of age.

For now Earendil is content to nurse at his Nana’s breast and doze. His Ada insists his boy will be a fine mariner someday. I do not understand how that will come about given that we are in a landlocked city, even if Lord Ulmo of the Waters is our patron Vala. I cannot picture our little prince sailing about in the Great Fountain in a wee boat.

Pengolodh, principal scribe to the House of the Wing

* * *

 

_First Age 507, Gondolin_

Half-elven children grow up so quickly, and Earendil’s parents have slowly whittled down the candidates for his foster-father. Lord Rog’s out as Idril fears her son lacks the strength needed for forge-work given his Mannish blood. Lord Maeglin clearly does not want anything to do with our happy little family. Lord Salgant got blacklisted after his fart-recital at the a certain tavern of ill-repute became public knowledge. Lords Penlod, Galdor and Duilin are out too thanks to their overindulging one night and setting fire to Lord Egalmoth’s house as a drunken jape. I personally think Idril favours Ecthelion, who is surprisingly good with children (for a Lord). Tuor is plumbing for his sparring buddies Egalmoth and Glorfindel, who are not good with children at all.

Lord Ecthelion is a favourite ‘uncle’ to our young prince, forever entertaining him with melodies on his flute and tales. Which is far more enjoyable to the lad than getting beaten black and blue by Glorfindel in a friendly sparring match. Go easy, you golden-haired dolt! He’s still an elfling. Idril put her foot down hard (I think Tuor was still limping when I passed him today in the hallway) and banned them from taking her son to the training yard until he is much older.

Nothing much to record where I am at seeing Tuor is never one for public speeches and ceremonies. I did have to exercise my hand drafting a begetting day speech once, but Earendil’s father decided to toss it away and wing it with an impromptu speech thanking Lord Ulmo and seeking his continued blessings for his family. I do get some missives from the king asking after his daughter and grandson’s welfare, which I which I have helped Idril reply the best I can. Lady Idril definitely calls the shots in this household. Sometimes, I get the feeling Tuor is another one of her pets – she keeps him fed and content (on all levels). I just hope she does not tire of him before he shuffles off his mortal coil. That would be awkward. Earendil is totally adored by the entire household and his parents try their utmost to ensure he doesn’t turn into a spoiled brat (like a certain Noldo prince back in Valinor).

I have been tasked with looking for suitable tutors to start teaching him once he turns seven, which should be a decent age for any elf or man to start learning his letters formally. Perhaps I can persuade the lady to allow me to tutor her son myself. It will give me something to occupy my time with. 

Pengolodh, principal scribe to the House of the Wing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone noticed Pengolodh got demoted? Or perhaps he viewed it as a career change. By the time Earendil is old enough to be tutored, Gondolin’s finished and his parents’ choice of tutors are severely limited.


	15. Who's Missing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maeglin finally does a bunk and hardly anyone outside his House notices. Except maybe for a certain little cousin.

_First Age 509, Gondolin_

It is odd how elflings are so like cats at times. The harder you try to shove them away, the harder they seem to come at you. Our Mole Prince is learning that firsthand after Earendil took a liking to him and it is driving him to distraction. I bet Maeglin really regretted that toy ship he made for Earendil’s begetting day. The lad loved it to bits, even more than he enjoyed pestering Lord Ecthelion for music.

A working forge is no place for a young one. Idril chewed her cousin out after her son snuck in and burnt his little hand on a piece of hot iron. Earendil is full of questions at that age. Even if he is not allowed inside, it does not stop him from poking his head in at the window and asking the smiths questions on how horseshoes are made and other stuff. Shoving the lad out and slamming the window shutters on him will just make him wail and Tuor storm over to find out who made his son cry. No one wants to talk to Tuor’s axe. The barbarian. There are marks all over the grand hall from him tossing his axe about. Idril got fed up and set him to chopping wood for the kitchen.

I hear Lord Maeglin is applying for leave to venture out into the Encircling Mountains, ostentatiously to look for ore and gems but methinks it is just an excuse to get away from Earendil. I doubt His Majesty will approve of his nephew gallivanting about the wilds.

Pengolodh, principal scribe to the House of the Wing

* * *

 

_First Age 509, Gondolin_

Several members of the House of Mole called this week asking if their lord was visiting his cousin. For Manwe’s sake, you lot should know better than that! Idril has never allowed her cousin to step into her house and Lord Tuor will seize him by the collar and toss him out like a pail of kitchen slops if he ever called on them. He hasn’t quite forgiven Maeglin yet for his son’s injury.

Earendil is also asking about where his favourite uncle has gone despite the efforts of Glorfindel and the others at distracting him. I bet Maeglin has decided to disobey his uncle’s orders to remain within the city walls and venture out, perhaps even travelling to the lands of his Avari kin. Does anyone know if his father has family Outside in Nan Elmo or whatever they call their patch of the woods? Perhaps he will come scurrying back when he sees how backward the Avari are after the sophistication of Gondolin.

Pengolodh, principal scribe to the House of the Wing

* * *

 

_First Age 509, Gondolin_

Spent half the morning trying to reassure Earendil that the Great Eagles are our friends and they do not go about snatching elves for dinner after Glorfindel told him that an Eagle most likely grabbed our Mole Prince and we will find his favourite uncle’s bones in some large nest in the mountains. Fie! You should know better than to scare elflings so. And that is why Glorfindel was tossed out into the street on his ass at nine o’clock this morning by Lord Tuor. Earendil would not stop fussing so his naneth took him to the library, where she promptly got distracted by books on tunnel-works and mining. So it is little old me with Earendil on my lap checking out Illustrated Tales of the Valar for Elflings. There goes my day off perusing erotic poems in Gondolin’s public library.

How quaint. Now Earendil wants to fly like the Eagles and meet Lord Manwe and Lady Varda himself. Maeglin better crawl out of whatever hole he has hidden himself in and take on his part of babysitting our little prince. Better than me trying to talk sense into Earendil about elves (and men) not being compatible for flight. Perhaps Glorfindel will irk the Eagles enough for them to drop a dead cow on his roof again.

Pengolodh, principal scribe to the House of the Wing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Pengolodh doesn’t get a break, does he? No one has the slightest clue how much trouble Maeglin is in and they don’t really seem to care much, except for maybe his men and a little boy.


	16. The Mole Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maeglin’s back in town and not everyone is happy to see him.

_First Age 510, Gondolin_

After disappearing with nary a word, the Lord of the House of the Mole has deigned to grace us with his august presence, just as His Majesty was about to declare him lost and foist the title of King’s Heir on his grandson. I should have guessed that like his Nana, Maeglin will turn up eventually. Unlike poor Aredhel, he seems to have done exceptionally well for himself Outside. He has been bestowing rich gifts and gemstones on his fellow nobles the likes of which have never been seen in the city. He also seems to have gained a bit more polish and is so much more sociable, drinking and dining with the lords… Oh, and these gatherings no longer end with him in the fountain.

Our young lord has finally seemed to get over his lurking about Lady Idril. I bet it took some time for it to sink in that she is a happily married woman with a hulky barbarian of a husband. So now he is open to the field of marriage and one can expect all the eligible ladies to be swooning all over his newly acquired charm (and wealth).

I was hoping he would remember to send me a small token of gratitude as his former tutor… I mean, a small ruby or garnet will go nicely with my new robes… Ah well, I suppose that’s nobility for you. We humble scribes and lesser servants are mostly invisible to them (unless they need to send a letter or someone spills their wine).

One person not exactly thrilled with the new and improved Maeglin is Earendil. Poor elfling came home sniffling that his favourite uncle is not the same. Idril had to convince her son that her cousin was not replaced by some total stranger. The House of Mole is a-stir with their master’s return. Apparently, the few elves who accompanied him on his venture out into the Encircling Mountains to seek out a new vein decided that life Outside was better (though I do not see how). One of those elves left his then-expecting wife in the city… Hm, but no one else is kicking a fuss about it…

Pengolodh, principal scribe to the House of the Wing

P.S. I do believe Idril is up to something. She has been hiring miners from her cousin’s House during his absence to expand her cellar, yet there seems to be little progress so far…

* * *

 

_First Age 510, Gondolin_

There is something odd happening at the House of the Mole in my most humble opinion. Seems our Mole Prince has been introducing some new management methods from Outside. Where I am concerned, the Moles are a disciplined bunch when set against the wine-sodden Harps or the brawling Hammers… This new team spirit thing is a bit, well, over the top. A couple of the married Moles had to be let go after they refused to adhere to the new residency rules. Maeglin never had any issues previously with his men spending their free time with their families instead of in his House. Families of those who remained in his service have voiced concerns about their loved ones – something about them seeming more lethargic and paler. They also seem to have experienced some changes of personality. One ellon renowned for his love for his fiancée suddenly broke off their engagement with nary a word of explanation. Another smith known for his easygoing ways was arrested in the market for assaulting his best friend from the House of the Wing.

Come on, are you insinuating that Lord Maeglin is some creature of darkness like a vampire spreading his malign influences on his servants? His Majesty has not yet investigated those complaints. He is a busy man after all. He might schedule an inspection visit after midsummer. Then there are the odd smells and weird chanting at all hours coming from Lord Maeglin’s place… Lord Rog swears the smells and chanting remind him of a certain place he would rather not be reminded of. Ha-ha, one would think there is some pit leading to Angband in the cellar of the House of the Mole the way you are going about it.

I am sure there is a perfectly logical reason for everything… Oh, how charming. Earendil has made a sketch of his former favourite uncle with fangs and bat-like wings. Elflings are so fickle in their affections. I do hope Lady Idril’s not instigating her son. She is a tad annoyed Tuor now has a new drinking and gambling buddy in Maeglin.

Pengolodh, principal scribe to the House of the Wing

P.S. Should I try to ask the sweet little gardener’s apprentice to accompany me to the mid-summer festivities? I do hope she says yes.

P.P.S. Earendil’s gone to stick his sketch on the main door of his grandfather’s house for all to see. How droll. I suppose I better take it down before Maeglin arrives for the evening’s banquet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hints are there but no one is picking them up. Children can be so sensitive to things at times. Earendil just senses that Maeglin is not the same uncle he knew. Idril’s secret way is up but Pengolodh has no clue (as usual). To some extent, he is like the Figwit of Figwit’s Journal – a pompous, opinionated, and slightly dense character with selective observation skills.  


	17. The Fall of Gondolin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Literally what it says on the title.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was wondering if I can squeeze in another chapter in Gondolin. Nope, didn’t work out, so let’s put an end to this fair city of Turgon’s. Perhaps I am enjoying this too much.

_First Age 510, somewhere in the wilds Outside_

Talk about a really bad day. No, that will be a major understatement. The day had started so well with the Gates of Summer festivities (the same speeches and ceremonies we have been subjected to for the past 400 cycles of the Sun). At first we thought His Majesty finally deigned to break with tradition and inject some creativity into the event, but soon we realized those Balrogs and dragons popping up around the walls were for real.

I barely made it out by the skin of my teeth, along with my Lord and Lady’s household. Somehow Idril uncovered some secret tunnel out of the city. Are you sure you weren’t working on this project as a way out to visit your remaining relatives Outside? Young Earendil thought the entire thing was a show, until his dear Uncle Maeglin tried to drop him off the south wall. We will get to that part later.

Like I wrote, the day had started so well, everyone was there for the rising of the midsummer sun (except for Lord Salgant, who was likely hungover in bed as usual). Glorfindel swore he saw him and Maeglin stumbling out of some seedy tavern last night. I think he would have woken to a real unpleasant surprise with the city burning around him. Lords Glorfindel and Egalmoth spent the night playing dice with Lord Tuor (surprised Idril allowed it) in our great hall, so they joined us for the ceremony.

Lord Galdor and his rather vapid second-in-command been acting a bit edgy recently (and I doubt it is due to those nasty whispers about them being far too close than is decent). I suppose if you just came off months of Gate-duty, no one could blame you for seeing orcs everywhere. Legolas kept insisting something was amiss but no one really paid him any heed. Except his lord, and that was to drag him off into a dark, quiet hallway lest he interrupts our king’s speech. I refuse to reply Earendil as to the source of the weird moans and gasping emanating from that hallway after the pair darted down there.

That was when the first dragon popped up and King Turgon calls a war-council. Seriously, when was a war-council ever called only when the enemy is already at the gates? Half the lords were screaming to be let out to fight the forces of Morgoth and the other half were insisting we fortify the walls and gates to withstand the siege. I suppose it was rendered moot when the orcs broke down the North Gate and the dragons smashed through the walls. Tuor had insisted I take his wife and child back to his house while he prepared for battle, so I do not know the outcome of that council.

Afterwards, everything was in chaos as the household made to either defend the city or flee to safety (though how I did not know). That was when Lord Maeglin showed up all bloody. I swear he was battle-mad. He seized Earendil and started dangling him over the wall. Thankfully, Idril was there to grab her son back to safety. Never mess with a naneth. Idril grabbed a spear and started stabbing at her cousin. Tuor and his buddies (Glorfindel and Egalmoth) saw everything from downstairs. Lord Tuor came running to assist his family, fighting his way through men from the House of the Mole. What’s it with them Moles? We’re all on the same side, right? Perhaps everyone in the House of the Mole has gone mad. Anyhow, Tuor made it up just in time for his wife to shove her dying cousin off the wall. Oh, given the awkward circumstances, I might forget I witnessed this part lest Idril gets accused of kinslaying. Like I said, never mess with a naneth.

Idril informed the household of her secret escape tunnel and we made a beeline for it. Ran into a puzzled Lord Galdor and Legolas along the way, exiting the baths. Seriously, how could the two of you be so preoccupied that you failed to notice the city is burning and being overrun? Everyone was being driven back to the King’s Square, where I sincerely hoped Lady Idril’s tunnel is. The horror, the horror… How can we expect to hold the forces of Morgoth back? There was no sign of any of the other lords. I suppose they had already fallen in battle. Some pesky orc tossed a head our way that looked like Lord Duilin’s but I did not stick around to confirm.

King Turgon had to make his final speech before handing command over to Lord Tuor (a waste of time, I must confess). Then his tower falls on top of him midway through (much to my relief), a nasty shock for poor Lady Idril of course. We then made our way to her escape tunnel. It was as organized an evacuation as we could reasonably manage under the circumstances, with Lord Glorfindel guarding our rear. I think he made a stop at his place to get his best armour on first.

Lady Idril probably made a miscalculation hiring those miners from her cousin’s House, even if they were the best in town. Perhaps the mistake was allowing them to return to their Lord. How else would those orcs know to chase us down our tunnel and out of the city?

Lord Glorfindel finally had his chance for glory, fighting a real Balrog. Then he blows his moment of glory by pausing for a victory pose and allowing the Balrog to yank him over the cliff by his golden hair. At least that is one Balrog down. The Eagles swooped in to save his ass but their timing was off (no surprise there), so we just had his broken corpse delivered to us for burial. I do hope they are not requiring us to trade some venison or rabbit for his body. We did not have a chance to grab any provisions. Oh, Lord Egalmoth mentioned something about the Eagles settling for scalping Glorfindel and taking his luxurious tresses to line their nests. Well, it’s not as though he needs his hair where he is now.

So here we are, out in the wilds, a band of refugees at the mercy of the elements and any roving orc-bands. Lord Tuor is rallying the able-bodied ellyn to set a watch for the night even as we bury his good buddy. Methinks it will be a long, hard night.

Pengolodh, scribe and refugee

* * *

 

_First Age 510, along the Sirion_

My poor feet. Never have I walked so hard and so far in all my years. Found no sympathy from Lady Idril, who told me to quit burbling because her feet are hurting worse from being all cut-up after losing her fancy slippers fleeing Gondolin. Her husband fashioned her a pair of rough boots from his cape but they are not helping much against the rough ground. Plus, they were running out of cape. They tried salvaging Glorfindel’s boots but gave up trying to undo his elaborate lacings and fancy fiddly buttons. Earendil and the younger elflings tire easily from the walking and had to be carried by their elders in turns. That lad has put on some weight since I last carried him.

Legolas has proven himself more than just a pretty face by hunting hares and small game for the fire. He also had a keen eye for ferreting out edible roots, berries and other tidbits. I never thought I would have to learn how to tell nettles from watercress from a lowly wood-elf. Those botany books in the city library were hopeless. My tongue was swollen for days after I nibbled on a nettle-leaf. Whispers abound that young Legolas was brought in by Lord Galdor on one of his long stints at the Outer Gates and the old goat fudged the papers for him to move in as his page. Well, I am not complaining, so long we get a meal at the end of the day, Galdor can continue chasing all the comely young ellyn he wants.

Tuor taught his son (and other young ones) some fishing basics, with us following the river to safety. Tuor has a vague idea of where Lord Cirdan’s island stronghold might be. I hope it is still standing. I will leave the logistics of how to get everyone across the sea to more optimistic minds to plan. I do hope Lord Ulmo continues to bless and favour us. I know Lord Tuor claims Lord Ulmo’s voice is guiding him but he did get a few hard knocks to the head during the fighting. It might all literally be in his head.

Lord Galdor, old grump, set the young ones crying with his gory tale of what happened to poor Lord Rog. They did not need to know if a dragon really snapped him in half. To stem any further bawling and nightmares, Lord Egalmoth whipped up some fanciful tale about Eagles saving everyone - and got promptly denounced as a liar by the elflings. One imp even chucked a boot at his head. There is no pleasing this crowd.

Pengolodh, scribe and refugee

P.S. I do hope Tuor’s right about where Cirdan’s stronghold is at. I would love to be able to sleep in a proper bed with a roof above again.

P.P.S. Egalmoth just promised me a commission if I will write a properly heroic epic of the Fall of Gondolin to present to any Elda we should encounter, lest we get laughed out of Beleriand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I can manage one more chapter with the refugees arriving in Sirion, then that is it for the First Age unless anyone asks for the Nargothrond royal diaries or Maedhros’ therapy journal.


	18. The Havens of Sirion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter before I probably disappear for a long time.

_First Age 511, the Havens of Sirion_

With Lord Ulmo’s blessings, we encountered no orcs or other nasty critters and arrived at the mouth of the Sirion where we chanced upon a Sindar settlement. After the initial awkwardness, we settled in as neighbours to the surviving Sindar from the Second Kinslaying (not our doing, naturally). Young Earendil has found himself a little friend in a certain Elwing, nominal Queen of the Sindar. Perhaps there is a more than a whiff of pragmatic politics here courtesy of Lady Idril and her cousin Lady Galadriel. Lady Galadriel has made plans to be rowed out to Balar to check in on Lord Cirdan and the elusive Gil-galad, who apparently is next in the Noldor line of succession. Lord Tuor advised me to leave the heavy politicking to Lady Galadriel, lest I meet with mishap. Does this have anything to do with that Sindar noble who took issue with Elwing’s friendship with Earendil and somehow took a plunge off a cliff? I am not going there.

Earendil’s Quenya sounds a bit rusty now that he has taken to speaking Sindarin like his new playmate. His father is trying to have him apprenticed to a shipwright or mariner seeing those skills will be in demand living along the coast. Lady Galadriel promised to drop a word in with dear Uncle Cirdan on that account. Nothing but the best teachers for our young prince. Options a bit limited now Gondolin is no more. I will seriously miss my colleagues at the Loremasters’ Guild. There is no one here to debate linguistics with. Tried my luck with young Legolas, who suggested I go seek out Maglor Feanorion if I am that keen on discussing Quenya poetry and leave him to his wine. Well, someone is grumpy after Lord Galdor threw him over for some fresh-faced fisher-elf. No decent elf will venture anywhere near the savages that are the Feanorions, even if their numbers have declined in recent years.  

Oh dear, I still owe Lord Elgamoth that heroic epic and he isn’t a patient elf. Surely he understands the difficulty in finding witnesses to the ends of our noble lords, and some of the deaths that I did witness were bordering on the ignoble. Getting squashed by falling masonry while making a long-winded speech is not a regal end for a High King. I did write a fine epic for his father Fingolfin, with some help from the Eagles who witnessed his heroic last stand. I suppose I can take some creative liberties. Shall I have Lord Salgant the lug-a-bed waking up surrounded by orcs and duking it out with them? Nah, that is too unbelievable for a sluggard like him. I will just stick to fleshing out Lord Ecthelion’s epic battle with the king of Balrogs in the Great Fountain, like Glorfindel was complaining about before he got his chance at glory. He was quite a decent ellon after all. I should give the credit for Maeglin’s death to Tuor, lest Earendil’s nana be accused of kinslaying.

Dare I slap the title of official history on my epic? I don’t see any other scribes or loremasters about. I guess it is up to little old me to record the Fall of Gondolin for posterity.

Pengolodh, only Noldo historian in Sirion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one is going to call foul on Pengolodh’s official history, at least until he gets to Valinor. Imagine a pitchfork-waving Aredhel on the quay with her rather pissed off family. Then maybe Lord Salgant waiting further down for his turn.


End file.
